Black Friday

Sandra Simonds

There really is a place in my register for you.

. . . . It’s too bad your heart has become

like a machine, counting shapes and sizes

. . . the way pornography rolls inside

. . the eyeballs of the habitual viewer

or maybe the way this sales assistant folds never-

worn shirts. One is lavender and the dye

. . . pools into the open areas of the terrible

shopping mall. To shout, “This is hell!”

. . . . . over children and samples of Chinese food.

That the shopping mall sits in the small

. . . . hand of the valley and that the valley

is filled with the cool, nameless skin

. . . of lovers walking away—oh world reptilian.

From The Sonnets
Available from Bloof Books
Also available from Farley’s, and Powell’s

The Sonnets (Bloof Books, 2014)